Trying Monkeybread
by Casmoiraitiel
Summary: An evening celebration leads to an interesting night for Special Agent Gibbs.  slash!Tibbs.  M for mature content.


**A/N: So, this is something I never do, and believe me, this is not the way I normally think. This is all Xenascully's fault. Every single word. I am not a slashfic writer.**

**Warning: Tibbs. Mature content.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS.**

"_GIBBSBOOBIES!"_

The day had been exhausting, a case had passed over NCIS desks that sent the lead team running over half the city, chasing an armed suspect on foot. After a drug exchange gone bad, the Lieutenant had left behind a dead body on base. It had taken only hours to find him lying low in a crummy motel, and the chase had started.

Now, the team had crammed into a booth at a local restaurant for celebration, ignoring the burning of overexerted muscles in favor of a dinner together. After a few drinks, the mood had lightened considerably and Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo was entertaining them with his version of how he'd taken down the Lieutenant, his green eyes sparkling with joy at being in the spotlight.

The team leader, silver haired Leroy Jethro Gibbs, despite being a man of few words and generally not one to encourage his senior field agent's wide imagination, he found himself hiding a smile behind behind his beer mug. He wasn't, however, listening to his agent. Instead, he found his eyes sweeping over Tony's face, odd emotions playing through him. Emotions he'd been trying for years to suppress under a fatherly mask.

Tony had been a rare find and he'd proven himself over and over again since taking a desk at NCIS, and Gibbs had found a sudden fondness for him that he couldn't ignore. He'd masked his interest, refusing to admit to himself that he could possibly be attracted to another man. That wasn't who he, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, was.

"The hell is 'monkeybread?'" he asked gruffly, shaking himself from his thoughts by looking down at the desert menu.

"You've never had monkeybread?" Tony asked incredulously, his eyes wide as he regarded his boss. "Boss, ya gotta try it!" He waved down the waiter, sending back an order or deserts all around. "On me." A wide smile lit his face. "When I was a kid, my nanny used to let me help her make it on the weekends for breakfast. Those are some of my best memories."

Plates arrived a few minutes later, a generous helping of the sweet bread lying syrupy and inviting under a dollop of whipped cream. Gibbs had to admit that the desert looked good and the opinion appeared to be shared by everyone at the table. The bread was a buttery, tender biscuit covered in sugar and maple syrup, practically falling apart on the tip of his tongue. It washed down perfectly with a cup of black coffee and Gibbs found himself content.

With a full stomach, he found himself drowsy. The company was good and the food was good. There was no case waiting for them in the morning, nothing to keep them from going home to relax. They parted ways close to midnight, Ziva David, the Israeli former-Mosad agent, climbing into her red Mini Cooper and pulling quickly out of the parking lot. Timothy McGee caught a ride with Tony, the senior field agent casting a smile back over his shoulder at his boss before climbing into the driver's seat of the Camaro. Left standing alone, Gibbs climbed into his truck, firing the engine to life and heading toward home.

The drive was short, and not enough to keep his mind off of the thoughts that had distracted him in the parking lot. He'd been able to lie to himself for a long time about how he felt regarding Tony, but the past year had brought them closer and lately, Gibbs had been unable to truly mask his emotions, drawing several questioning glances from his agents in the office and in the field. Twice, he'd almost stopped his senior field agent from taking point, feeling his gut quench, imagining Tony taking the bullet that seemed to never come. He had a sneaking suspicion that Tony was on to his act. The younger man was a skilled investigator. The glances that he'd exchanged with his boss had spoken volumes, but neither had dared to say anything. Gibbs couldn't bring himself to approach the subject. It wasn't the Gibbs-way.

Sighing, he cut the engine and climbed out of the truck, slamming the door behind him as he trudged up to his house, letting himself in and kicking the door shut with his foot. He shed his jacket, hanging it by the door before grabbing a beer from his fridge and settling down on the couch, flipping on the television for noise.

He took a long draw of the amber liquid, shaking his head. Tony had never approved of his television, the younger man having a broad appreciation of television and movies. In Gibbs opinion, as long as it still worked, there was no reason to fix it. He didn't get modern technology anyway. Now, however, he couldn't help but think that a new television might be a nice addition to his living room.

A baseball game was on and, with a full stomach and just enough beer, he found himself dozing, stretching out onto the couch to make himself comfortable. Here, the thoughts ran unfiltered, and they steered themselves into dangerous territory, uninhibited.

The past few weeks, his dreams had been leading him closer and closer to his senior field agent in a way that he'd almost found disturbing. He could imagine Tony's strong arms around him, for once being the strong, immovable force in the relationship. It had felt oddly comforting, completely unexpected. He could imagine the feel of Tony's warm breath against his neck and shivers had covered his skin. He'd woken in a frustrated state.

He roused, his hand reaching for his sidearm instinctively as he felt a hand close over his. He blinked rapidly, clearing his vision, and found himself staring into the sparkling eyes of Tony. Slowly, he put down his gun, giving it a resting place on the nearby coffee table.

"What're you doin' here, DiNozzo?" he asked, more gruffly than he intended. He'd woken in an embarrassing state and shifted to hide his obvious arousal. He checked his watch. He'd been asleep for an hour.

"Just thought you might like to talk, boss," he responded easily, sliding down onto the couch, turned slightly to face the older man. The easy smile was still tattooed on his face.

"'Bout what?" He was too quick to ask, and he mentally kicked himself. There was no way his lead investigator had missed the anxious edge to his words.

"About the way things have changed between us."

Gibbs blinked, taken aback by the agent's bold words, but soon had smoothed his expressionless mask back on his face.

"Oh, don't give me that." Tony was clearly scolding, his smile fading slightly. "I've seen the looks. I've been trying to return them, ya know."

"Return them?"

"Don't play stupid, boss." Tony played with a loose thread hanging off the back of the couch, his eyes darkening as he stared intently at the older man. "We can keep playing this game, but honestly, I don't want to." He moved closer. "This isn't about...being _gay_, Gibbs. We're not." His hand came to rest over Gibbs'. "I just know that...I love you and I want you." Nerves forced a tremble into his voice that he tried to wish away.

"How long have you known?" The question came out in a whisper and Gibbs wanted to kick himself. His mouth was dry and he desperately wished that he seemed more self assured. He felt vulnerable, a completely foreign feeling.

"For a long time now, boss."

Gibbs swallowed over the lump in his throat. It had been an interesting day. First, he'd admitted to himself that he felt more than he imagined for Tony, then he'd began to imagine what it'd be like to be held by Tony, giving in to him completely.

Tony could see the discomfort and he pasted another winning smile to his face, taking Gibbs' hand once more. He breathed a sigh of relief when the older man didn't pull away. "I'm flattered, Gibbs, really." He brushed his thumb across the back of the hand he held, letting a chuckle fall from his lips. "After all, I'm not a red-head."

Gibbs' startled laugh was cut short as Tony abruptly closed the distance left between them, seizing his boss's lips with his own, crushing down against the supple skin. His appreciative groan was muffled by the kiss. Reluctantly, he pulled away, gazing down into Gibbs' face, rejoicing as he saw the desire plainly written there.

"Tony," he managed, his hands reaching up to pull the agent back to him. All reservations cast aside, he wanted the younger man. He needed him.

Clothes seemed to melt away between them and Tony's fingers trailed down Gibbs' chest, circling over to a taut nipple. The older man squirmed beneath the hold of the younger, unfamiliar sensations spreading through his core. He looked down to watch what Tony was doing to him, his eyes widening as he beheld his own body. Full, rounded breasts greeted his eyes first, and he blinked rapidly, unsure of what he was seeing. Still, Tony persisted, his fingers tweaking and pinching the nipples in tandem as he ignored Gibbs' confusion, drawing him into a kiss again.

He could feel his hard, throbbing erection pressing against Tony's thigh, the younger man's own arousal making itself known, rubbing slow circles against Gibbs' hips. Confusion was pushed to the back of his mind as he reveled in the sensations that flooded his body. He'd never been more aroused before, and Tony was proving to be a skilled lover, living up to the bravado that he'd always presented. He'd earned that right, or so it seemed.

"Let me take care of you, boss," Tony whispered, his lips trailing along Gibbs' jawline until he nipped lightly at the earlobe, repeating his request as his hand closed around the swollen knob, gathering the pre-cum under his thumb as he stroked downward.

Gibbs groaned, arching his hips in want, shivers coursing his body. It was just as he imagined, having his senior field agent in charge, and he wanted more. Thoughts of resisting were long past, and he gave in to the pure pleasure that resulted from Tony's touch, and he was vocal in his appreciation.

Tony shifted, moving down the length of his boss' body, dropping kisses and bites over the skin. His lips closed around an erect nipple, his tongue and teeth shaping and tugging as his hand continued to pump slowly along the length of the prominent erection. The combination of sensations sent his head spinning.

Gibbs nearly shouted as Tony's warm tongue lapped over the hood of his trembling cock, his hand shifting to the base to allow his fingers caress his sac. He drew his tongue down the length of his shaft before quickly taking the length in his warm mouth, pumping down until the knob pressed against the back of his throat.

"God, Tony." The words came out in a growl, and he wrapped his fingers in Tony's short brown hair, his fingers flexing, pulling him down harder and urging him onward. He wanted to feel Tony's lips wrapped around the base of his hard cock, he wanted to feel Tony's throat work around the tip.

The agent obliged, working Gibbs' shaft expertly in his eager mouth, projecting what he enjoyed in hopes that his boss would love it too. He'd never had another man's cock in his mouth before, but with Gibbs, it felt natural, and he found his own excitement growing. He flattened his tongue, drawing it roughly up the length, before sucking back to the base. He repeated the motion as the pleasured moans and groans reached his ears.

Gibbs was nearing his peak. He could feel the orgasm building and he fought it back, wanting the moment to last, wanting to hold out for Tony. He tried to voice his desires, tried to tell his lover what he wanted, but he couldn't form words, not with the warmth that flowed through his body, numbing him in immutable pleasure.

Tony took the vocal change to mean that he was asking for more and he obliged, redoubling his efforts, his tongue lapping at the pre-cum eagerly, twisting about the swollen knob.

Release was inevitable and he felt himself teetering on the edge. There was no way he could hold back. Tony's mouth simply felt too good and he'd wanted this for far too long. He arched his hips, thrusting along with the sucking rhythm that the younger man had settled into, his fingers splayed wide across Tony's head, urging him onward. The small, encouraging moans escaping around his cock was intoxicating and he cried out wordlessly, unable to suppress the swell, cumming against the back of Tony's throat.

Spent and trembling, he collapsed back against the couch, his vision blurring as he gasped for air, feeling Tony's mouth contract against his cock, milking the last few drops from him as if it were nectar.

A smile touched his lips as Tony kissed his way back up his body, settling above him and gazing down into his eyes as if asking for a performance review.

"Where'd you learn how to do that?" he asked breathlessly.

"Here and there," came the easy reply, accompanied by a bright smile. "Then again, boss, this is your dream. This is what _you_ wanted, Gibbs."

"Dream?" he repeated faintly.

Tony shifted above him, suddenly fully clothed again. "Time to get a move on, boss. Your phone's ringing."

Try as he might to hold on, he found the scene shifting around him, fading away. True to Tony's words, the blaring of the cell phone soon roused him and he opened bleary eyes to a slightly dark room, lit only by the continuing ball game on the television. He bit back a curse, looking down to find his own hand gripping his cock, his pants and torso spattered with his release.

Grumpily, he wiped his hand against his shirt, reaching for his phone. It was time to start the day.

**0000100000**

Gibbs strode into the bullpen, his coffee in hand, a scowl affixed to his face. The scowl didn't soften when his eyes lighted briefly on his senior field agent. Tony looked as if he hadn't slept at all, similar to McGee and Ziva who sat addled at their desks, waiting for orders.

"Rough night, boss?" Tony asked, stretching and yawning fitfully as his eyes followed Gibbs' trek across the room.

The senior agent allowed himself a moment to reflect before retrieving his firearm from where he'd stored it in his desk. "Never offer me monkeybread again, DiNozzo." He fixed the holster to his belt, reaching for his badge, ignoring the questioning look he got in response. "Gear up! Got a dead marine."

He strode to the elevator, sinking into his coffee as the team scrambled to join him. It was just another day at NCIS.

_~Fin._


End file.
